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If you were to leave and fulfill someone else's dreams
I think I might totally be lost
- Dallas Green

Paris in May was a humid ball of heavy air and bursts of misty afternoon rain. In it's own way it was lovely and irritating all at once. Currently, it was ridiculously annoying. Every inch of Blair's skin was hot as she pulled her ponytail away from her neck, fanning her cheeks with a stray piece of paper.

It had been almost a month since they'd landed in the capital and it was on days like this, the weather so similar to late June in New York, when Blair caught herself thinking of home. With a frustrated sigh she picked up her pen, rolling it between her fingers.

Dorota, as loyal as she was, had mailed a fair chunk of notes, work and tests that were meant to be completed by the weeks end. And, as Blair sat in the living room of the quaint hotel room on a Thursday, she slowly began looping her cursive across the page. It was difficult to keep her eyes on the print in the biology textbook on her lap.

The rain was an allusion; it brought little more than puddles and damp grass to the flowers. Other than that the heat remained. Droplets trickled down the windowpanes in a dramatically loud way, the sound echoing off the walls and hitting Blair from every angle. She feigned interest in a spec of dust that crawled across the floor. There wasn't anything to do when Chuck was busy with work, his quiet whispers behind closed doors.

Then as if he had read her mind, he appeared in the room, cutting the distance between them in long strides. He fell onto the couch behind her and she rested her head on his chest, thankful for the distraction.

She felt him pick up a strand of her hair, bringing it to his lips. Her heart fluttered.

"Eleanor called," He murmured, almost as though he hoped she wouldn't hear him.

"When?" She asked. Her father had been calling almost every hour in hopes to see her while she was in the country... Eleanor hadn't done anything.

"Last night," His chin rested on her ear. "You were asleep and I didn't want to wake you."

"Good," She nodded, "I'm not taking her calls." Or anyone's really for that matter.

Chuck exhaled deeply, she felt his ribcage expand and contract underneath her. "It's been a month," He said.

"I'm enjoying myself and I don't want to ruin it."

It had been why she'd simply rejected her father's calls, Serena's chipper voicemails, the one email Nate had sent with mega prompting from a certain blonde (Blair supposed.) If she talked to one of them then she'd have to speak to them all, return to the reality of everything.

He shook his head, "It puts a damper on the festivities when I know you're not really here."

She sat up quickly, turning towards him. "I am here," She defended, "All of me."

His breath stuck to her flesh, her shoulder blades. His eyes focused on hers as he lowered his eyelashes.

"You know what I mean," He whispered. "You've been brooding for two days in all this effort to avoid people who aren't even in the same country as you."

"I have not been brooding," She hated him for assuming that she did any such stupid, lame thing. "In case you haven't noticed I've got three thousand hours worth of work ahead of me. Besides, they don't matter as much to me as this does." She looked at him, smiling gingerly.

He leaned back on the cushions. "Don't say that ever, not even about me." Chuck's words were sharp, serious, "Of course they do."

It was almost impossible to read him sometimes. "Ugh, but I just --" She threw her hands up in the air.

"Don't want to deal with it right now," He finished the thought. "I know, but I don't want to see you pushing everyone away."

She frowned. He was being ridiculous to assume that she was doing any such thing.

"I thought we were going out," was her attempt at changing the subject, "or are you planning on interrogating me more?"

"Probably," He half-smiled. "Just tell me that you'll call Serena, if no one else, when we get back."

She rolled her eyes, letting the sound of the rain fill the silent gaps between them.

"It's in yo--"

"My best interest," She scoffed. "You know, you're not in any position to bargain Bass. Last I checked," She ran a hand up his neck; "You and Nate weren't exactly trading lunchables."

She knotted her hands through his mussed hair, gently pulling him towards her. Chuck looked away, hurt just as she was at the mention of Archibald's name.

"Nate and I aren't friends anymore," He replied coldly.

"You're being just as childish as I am."

"He threw me against my own limo, gave me a black eye and then left." Chuck bit out the words angrily, his brow furrowed.

She brought him closer still, her lips against his cheekbone. "So you wouldn't have done the same thing if you were in his position?"

Chuck was still enough that she could hear his breathing. "I watched you together, I listened to everyone talk about you, I was your secret and then you left me too."

It was the wrong move. She had dragged up old, useless attempts made by the Blair who had danced, without thought; to the man she'd convinced herself she wanted.

"But I don't love Nate," She protested "And he doesn't love me." It was all she could think to say, it was the truth, as solid and clean as it could be. There had never been much between them but the stale ideas of protective parents.

"All that matters is," She continued, "that I came back to you ..." She kissed him softly, "and that you let me."

"Call Serena," He breathed, resisting her advances.

"Will you kiss me back if I say yes?" She teased.

"I'll do more than that Waldorf," He growled. The intensity of the moment had drawn away.

"I will then I suppose," She promised. The uneasiness lifted from her words as Chuck rolled her onto the floor.

The next few hours passed in a blur of flesh and lips. The crinkle of the bed sheets creating its own rhythm against the heat of spring months. Blair's homework was left forgotten on the couch, proudly bearing a textbook nearly ripped to pieces and a cushion or two split down the seam. Such was the reoccurring themes of a Waldorf and a Bass, quite the unexpected pairing.